Not blue enough

No, I'm not sad. I'm referring to my hair, which I was going to turn blue, remember? I went with blue-black instead of blueberry. Big mistake. I wanted really blue hair, and this isn't it. Oh well, back to the drawing board. To design a hair modulator.

Can you keep a secret? So can I.

How do you determine if someone is discreet? Do you go by how well you know them, and take a chance, or to you tell them something, see if if gets floated about and decide by trial and error if they are blabbers or not?

The office I currently work in - like most places, I'm guessing - is a hotbed of gossip. My general modus operandi here is: don't say it if you don't want everyone to hear it at some point. And if you want it to spread quickly, preface what you say with "don't tell anyone, but..."

One door, that's it.

Oooo I hate having man trouble. Wait, that is sexist. Home repair trouble. Where do people learn stuff about fixing up homes? Their parents? Environment? Or, as I tend to do, find a book in a library? Why do the guys I know just KNOW this stuff?

All I want to do is buy a screen door for the front door. How hard can this be? Well the first thing I find out is that doors aren’t a standard size. Why not? They should be, like stairs inside there should be one standard size. So fine, there isn’t a standard size, I guess I’ll have to measure something. The inside of the door? The size of the door we have? Inside the frame, or outside? I had a storm door before and obviously made a poor choice then. Oh, it worked all right, it just opened in a direction that everyone and his brother decided to tell me was the wrong way. Lord save me from a life so narrow the way a door opens is of paramount importance.

No, I’m not asking for help. But I’m frustrated, so I’m temporarily giving up. Think I’ll turn my hair blue instead. Which seems to be par for the course for me: get frustrated, change the hair. I thought I’d try blue since it is all getting cut off soon anyway.

To thine own geek be true

I am such a geek, but really, the show was amazing. I stayed up late last night watching NOVA: Mystery of the Megaflood. I can't decide if I should reccomend that you watch it - risking you spending an hour thinking "what a bore of a show, what a geek of a person" or tell you not to watch it should it play again, risking deterring you from watching this totally cool show. I'll leave it up to you Just keep in mind that I have never been - and never will be- the hippest kid in the class.

Mind Surfing

As I sit here at work, no work in sight (see previous job related posts), I find myself thinking strange things:

1. If every one could read everyone else's mind, it would eventually mean the end of mankind. Lots of murders, and in the end no one would ever manage to be in a relationship long enough to have kids. In time we as a people would just die out. Those who hadn't been killed, or who weren't driven to suicide from having to listen to the thoughts of others that is.

2. Would bathing in chocolate be a good idea, or a bad one? So many things to think about here. How hot would it need to be to be comfortable? Straight chocolate, or chocolate melted with cream? (This whole thing occurred to me as I was stirring shaved dark chocolate into hot cream to make ganache). Milk chocolate? Dark? How big is the bathtub, how much chocolate would you need? How would you keep it warm? Wouldn't your hair get all gross and sticky? Would there be any benefit at all beyond the possibility that it might feel really cool? ( In the hip sense of the word, not the temperature sense). Good for your skin, or just fun?

3. If I were to keep track of how far I trudge/jog/walk on the treadmill, how long would it take me to cross the province? The country? How about the world? How many kilometres around is the earth at the equator?

4. If I could rob a bank with a guarantee that I would never be caught, would I do it? Or would the intrinsic wrongness of it hold me back?

5. If voodoo worked, who would I make a doll of just for the humour of making them walk funny?

6. I have friends, and in their family there are three sisters. Why are all three of them good looking? I mean, that doesn't seem statistically correct. Or fair, really. Maybe it would make sense if your parents are supermodels, or something, but in everyday life, how often does this happen?

7. Is the above influenced by being the homely one in a family of beauties? Oops, sorry, not homely, apparently plain would be a better choice of words. According to a friend. Ah, the honesty of friends, there's nothing like it!

8. What is the point of coming up with some clever bon mot if no one gets it?

9. Why can't I wear my hair as just plain hair?

10. What would you rather do, fly like a bird or swim like a dolphin?

11. If you could have one magic power, what would it be?

A rock is a hard place.

When I start the new job (that could be the 21st- or not, given how things work around here), I am planning on biking to work. Good for me, good for the planet, good for the pocketbook.

I got a head start on this by biking in the evenings after supper this week. Last night M. and I went to Rogers, to look for a movie and drop off some cookies. We didn’t find a movie we could agree on (no surprise there!), so we went from there to L. & B.s place. They have lots of movies to choose from, but no luck there either, so we biked home.

Now here’s my gripe: surely to heaven, all things considered, you’d think that I’d have more than enough padding to make the piece of Canadian Shield that serves as my bicycle seat comfortable. Wrong. WRONG WRONG WRONG. That trip was about the death of me. Or the end of ever sitting down again.

If I still intend to bike to work – and I do – my ass is going to have to learn to take more punishment (oh simmer down, you know what I mean), or I’m going to have to buy some sort of sissy seat cushion. Drat.

And maybe a winning lottery number too.

I reached a crisis point in my life yesterday, and I need to fix it. So I'm building a time machine and going back to undo something. Of course, if I undo it, then perhaps I won't have a crisis point. Which means I won't need to build a time travel machine. So I won't go back. Which means it won't get undone. So I will have a crisis, so I'll have to build a time travel device....ack. At any rate, if I can blog I will, but I figure the building and travelling should take three weeks, so you'll just have to live with a lack of posts.

Oh My Girl.

I love my kids. I love the board game playing one on one. I love World Wide Wednesdays, when they choose a country and sample the cuisine of the culture. My little international sous-chefs! Part of the deal is learning a bit about their country of choice and sharing it over supper. We've added some recipes to out family favourites. A's Spanish Shrimp and M's Hawaiian Honey Chicken being two that appear on a semi-regular basis. I love the book reading, hot chocolate/tea/steamer in hand, reading favourite lines out loud. I love seeing them get hooked on an author that I've introduced them to. A is on his fouth book in Orson Scott Card's Enders series. I love playing badminton in the park until it's too dark to see the birdie. I even enjoyed it on the weekend when the park was soggy as well as dark!

So, my girl. Which is the whole point of the post. To get things in perspective, this is the girl who read the Hobbit in Grade 2. While her friends were reading Good Night Moon. She decided two weeks ago that she wanted to read Catcher in the Rye. Not sure why, but I told her that if we read it concurrently and talked about it then yes, by all means give it a try. So she asked for it at the school library (she's in grade 6). The librarian searched for it on the computer and didn't find it. She was, as it happens, searching for "Catch Her in the Eye". What kind of book would that be? An aid to violence in relationships? M. clarified the title and was told that The Catcher in the Rye is "VERY Unsuitable", and of course the school wouldn't have a copy. And she shouldn't be reading that until college anyway. College? Why not just say until she's 30, or 40. Anyway, the local library had it, so we started it last night. Should be an interesting literary journey for us!

How'd that Happen?

I was reading a friend's blog today, and discovered we share a common childhood favoured cartoon - Hercules. The thing is, as I was reading it, I thought about the theme song, (which I thought outlined the basic requirements for a husband) and realized that I knew the whole thing. How did that come about? I haven't heard it since I was a kid, and yet there was the song, word for word. Stupid unruly brain.

I Most Certainly Have Not!

Yesterday when I got home from treading I started to make supper, and was met with the following from my son: “Mom, you’ve done three ways before, how do I go about setting one up?” As I stood there, mouth agape thinking… well, let’s leave it at thinking, he – puzzlement on his face – said “mom? I’m on the phone with D. How do we make it so that we can both talk to A about going to the Matrix tonight?” Oh. Oh yeah. Calling. Three way calling. It’s in the phone book. Right.

The three of them went to the Matrix after supper and I picked them up when they were done. The night was capped off for me when, driving home, one of them said “A., your mom is such a guy”. Sigh. At least I know that it was meant as a compliment. Hope he improves his observational abilities when he starts dating!

I'm electric.

I was superwoman on Sunday. I had to give the outfit back, of course, but much was accomplished in a short time. Today is interesting too – I have WAY too much energy. I could re-roof the house, pave the driveway and dig a moat for the house. Before lunch! Not sure where it comes from – spring time and I’m happy? Would that be enough to give me scary amounts of fizzy energy?

My friends and their hair.

Two people that I know have recently cut their hair. B. looks fantastic, sort of Angeline Jolie in Hackers. J's is shorter than it was, but the shave made a bigger difference than the hair. The hair cut was a gift for his wife (which she asked for), so he did it. So this got me thinking about my hair. It really needs to get cut. I've told my sister that I'll do it when I'm out there, and cutting it is related to a fitness goal. But the thing is, do I really want to cut it?
I should
ButI never do anything with it.
It's my only good feature.
But I never do anything with it.
It took a couple of years to get this long.
But I never do anything with it.
It would be expensive to keep it in style if it were short.
But I never do anything with it.
I don't have a very feminine face, short hair would make it worse.
But I don't don anything with it.

The weirdest part, that I've never been able to work out, is that I never have my hair...just there. Always always always a braid, or a bun, a barrette, SOMTHING. It is out when it is washed, and that is the only time it isn't in something. So in a way, I'd like to put off the getting rid of it all until I've managed to go an entire day and night with my hair just being hair. Although that may mean it would never be cut at all. Which would be stupid, having all that hair and never doing anything with it!

Loved and lost.

Everyone loses things, some of us more than others, yes? But there are things I have - or had, I should say - that shouldn't be in the list of misssing things. For instance:

I can think of at least two shirts, blouses, really, that are gone. I've checked behind the washer/dryer, in my daughter's closet, at the laundromat I used when the washer broke down, at the house of friends who loaned me their washer during the same tragic washerless spell and in my son's closet (because I couldn't think of anywhere else to look). Not in any of those places. How did this happen? I don't go places that one would be taking off one's shirt, let alone leaving accidentaly (or intentionally!) without putting it back on. So where are these two shirts?


A Shovel. This may have a logical answer. I do have kids, and although they deny it I can see that it is possible that they borrowed it for some reason I'd rather not hear about and then left it where ever it was they were using it. So perhaps that isn't so odd.

Almonds. I was making a dessert that required two types of almonds. I bought them, I remember unpacking them from the grocery bag and yet beyond that there isn't a trace of them or a hint of where they may be. I had to go out and get more almonds. That was months ago and they are still missing.

Winter Boots. I know I bought winter boots last year for me, because the ones I had - and still have - were worn out and no longer warm in any way. I bought them on sale at the end of the season, and they...walked away? They're pretty clunky, too, so you'd think I couldn't miss them. But they haven't turned up despite some pretty desparate searching.

A bottle of Veggie Juice. I bought a giant bottle of 10 vegetable juice to take to work. It isn't at home, it isn't in the car and it isn't at work. So where is it?

One year I bought a Santa Claus (Mrs. Claus, actually. Or so I hope) matching underwear/bra set. I remember hiding them, because it was January and I wouldn't need them for another 11 months. OK, so I would never actually NEED red underwear with white faux fur trim. But as I did spend $ to get it, I want to wear it. So where on earth did I hide them? I've gone through every cupboard and every drawer that I own, and they're just...M.I.A. Or Missing Without Action, depending on how you look at it.

I've a much large list of things that are missing, these are just the ones that keep me awake at night trying to figure out what's going on.

Waiting for Theblow.

I've had two giant disruptions in my life in the past three days. A huge hit to the baking business (although I think I have a new road to try on that front), and a huge blow at work. Now the work change could be good, consequently not a blow, but it could be terrible. New job, new location same Board. They do say a change is as good as a rest, though, so I'm waiting to see how the work thing pans out. The thing is, I am now wondering if there is any truth to the rule of three. Is there some third thing out there, poised to distrupt my life in some huge way? Or are these things happening to speed up my eventual move to BC? Or are they happening because change is a part of living?

How do you wear cereal?

I'm in the bathroom at work and two other women are having a conversation (sidenote: why do they do that? how can they do that? Do what you have to do, wash your hands and leave). I'm not really paying attention until I hear the following:

"ugh- is that dandruff?"
"no, it's cereal"

So...where might you have cereal that could be mistaken for dandruff? Or where to do you have dandruff that could be mistaken for cereal? And what cereal are you eating that looks like dandruff?

I think this is why eavesdropping is bad for you: I'm going to be thinking about this for days, now. I may never eat cereal again. And who takes people to task over dandruff anyway? I guess I should just be grateful that the bathroom eater is a guy, and consequently us womenfolk on this floor never have to deal with that. Although I'd like to know why he eats his lunch in the bathroom. Wacky world, eh?

Brain Worms

There are thoughts in life that wriggle their wormy little way into your brain, and you can’t let go until you’ve made the worm happy. A question, perhaps, that has no immediate answer must be pursued until an answer is found. Or a moral dilemma that one feels must come to some sort of resolution, even when it is a hypothetical dilemma. Or wanting something you really shouldn’t have: that extra bowl of ice cream, that 27th beer, that bank robbery in Vegas you’ve been thinking about. (that last thing is probably just me). The thing is, sometimes there are things you want that you can’t have at the moment. I am almost dizzy with wanting to lie down on thick green grass in the park, under the biggest tree I can find. I want to lie down and close my eyes and let the summer sun warm my winter skin.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
-Solomon

(I’d give a great deal to hear what turtles have to say).

Cars are not magic

Being in a car doesn't render one invisible. So don't do anything in your car that you don't care to be seen doing. Not that I didn't know that or anything. I'm just sayin'.

Cruel Gruel

You know what it truly disgusting, especially on a Friday morning when all you really want is a large mug of London Fog from Stone’s Throw? Oat Bran porridge, when you’ve used too much water and not enough bran and you have to drink it.

Oh wait – that just got surpassed in the stakes of disgusting things to eat; cold watery oat bran porridge.

An independent brain

I’ve come up with a new work rule: when three things go wrong before nine in the morning, you get a day off with pay. Of course that would benefit some of us more than others, but still.

I had several things to take to work today, so when I went to start the car I took Poland’s cake with me. I stepped on the top step, which, as it turned out was not so much a step as a skating rink. Yup, the kind of ice that makes you fall. My brain, without asking me for my opinion, said “Save cake! Must…save…cake”. So the cake was saved, with a minor wrist scrape on the arm that was holding it (minor, but it is right where the mouse pad thingy rubs. Thingy being the correct term for it), but my tailbone was not saved in any way. So as I sat there I thought that really, it would have been better to let the cake fly (birthday girl is very nice: having a cake next Monday wouldn’t have mattered at all), and save myself from the fall. When I got to work I fixed the cake – the sides were messy – and went to fill the kettle with water for tea and oatmeal. Except that my lunch and breakfast were somewhere on the front step at home. So no oatmeal. And whilst I filled the kettle and contemplated my foodless day, I didn’t realize that I was pressing both taps on the water jug, so the water catcher was overflowing with water that was pouring in a waterfall onto the floor. Sigh. I scooped out a bit of water from the water catcher thing, and took it out of its pocket to empty it. I was almost at the sink when someone opened the door next to the sink, bumping me, so that water ended up on the floor in front of the sink.

I guess if I am really hungy I can go to the cafe across the street. Or eat cake. The cake might as well be lunch, because in the end it is pointless, from a birthday point of view: birthday girl is home sick today.

I can't wait to see what the rest of the day holds for me.

I'm too risque for me.

I was thinking of posting a poem (of my own writing, that is). I have ten poems I've written over the past fifteen years that I still like. I've written many more, but they weren't worth saving. Some managed to hang on for months, even a year, but in the end they were trashed. So I looked at the ten, and all but one are not suitable for my blog. My poetry is not appropirate for...well, me, I guess. Weird. I had already noticed that I write far better when angst ridden than when happy. I have no jolly poems, despite being a disgustingly happy person. I guess bad poetry writing is my own form of therapy.